Table of Contents
Secrets of the Sapphires
Copyright
Dedication
Acknowledgements
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
A word about the author...
Thank you for purchasing this Wild Rose Press publication.
Secrets
of the
Sapphires
by
T. Sue VerSteeg
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
Secrets of the Sapphires
COPYRIGHT © 2012 by Toni S. Nichols
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
Contact Information: [email protected]
Cover Art by Angela Anderson
The Wild Rose Press
PO Box 708
Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708
Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com
Publishing History
First Black Rose Edition, 2012
Print ISBN 978-1-61217-179-1
Digital ISBN 978-1-61217-180-7
Published in the United States of America
Dedication
Secrets of the Sapphires is dedicated to my late Great Aunt Francis Cox. After her passing, we found out so much more than we ever dreamed about the quiet secretary from the DC area. Within her belongings was a medallion naming her as a founding member of the US Central Intelligence Agency. Thank you, Aunt Frani, for all of your hard work, sacrifices for our country, and the ideas for this story. Of course, this book is a work of my own warped imagination and not based on any facts from her belongings other than the CIA itself.
Acknowledgements
I'd like to take this opportunity to give thanks.
First and foremost, thank you God for this chance to share my passion for writing with lovers of the written word.
Second in line is my husband, Stephen Nichols, without whom I'd be lost. Thank you for loving me, encouraging me, and being your adorable, lovable self.
Next are four lovely ladies who helped me polish and prepare. Trula Wyatt, my critique partner, has been a wonderful inspiration and a true friend for many years. The fabulous Gemma Halliday and the awesome Kate Pearce helped me polish the beginning of this book. They are also the type of writers I'd love to be one day. I'd also like to thank my amazing editor at The Wild Rose Press. Nicolette Smith has been a patient, thorough wonder-woman who has never been more than a quick email away. This book sparkles thanks to you.
Last, but not least, are two guys who gave me insight into worlds I'd be lost within. David Shelton, tech-extraordinaire, your computer knowledge knows no bounds. I thank you for breathing life into Brandon Shrock and answering all of my questions about computers. Also, Shane Crawford, your mind is a scary place, but I learned more about vampires and all things that go bump in the night than I probably would have from a search engine.
Thanks so very much.
Chapter One
Medieval England
Year of Our Lord 1462
A large white sapphire glittered in the midday sun as wrinkled, liver-spotted hands thrust it heavenward. Dark, ominous clouds billowed, instantly plunging the land into inky darkness. Bright orange flames engulfed the trees, jumping from limb to limb in a circle around her. The quiet stream in front of her hovel now boiled blood red as a demand bellowed from creased, desiccated lips.
“In twain!”
A bolt of lightning crackled from the heavens and struck the stone in two. The old hands held firm even though the energy remained, streaking back and forth between the pieces.
“Visions of future, dreams of night, horrors of loss plague my sight. Centuries pass, strife prevails. Lessons of history, time reveals. One part to the time of imminent danger, the other remains to transport the savior.”
Both halves hovered above her hands. Brilliant white light emanated from them, bolts of energy shooting out in all directions. The half from her left hand sparked, glowing redder than the river in front of her. It burst into a white-hot ball and quickly disappeared. The piece from her right hand fell lifelessly into her palm.
As the forest around her returned to a bright summer’s day, she looked down at the remaining part of the sapphire and cackled. “Evil shall reign eternal.”
****
American Midwest
Present Day
Six stitches, three laser treatments, and two hundred dollars for an ounce of supposed miracle cream, but damned if it wasn’t still red. The fresh scar was her latest assignment reminder. Nia Brooks ran a finger over the raised skin at her wrist then pushed her silver bangle bracelet down to cover it. Smoothing the silky material of her evening gown, she shuddered at the sight. Blood red was neither her first pick nor a good color for her pale complexion. Unfortunately the Central Intelligence Agency’s mission coordinator thrived on pissing Nia off. This would also explain the backless aspect of the gown, which would undoubtedly afford some lucky partygoer a view of her ass crack at some point in the evening. Nia counted her blessings that Mother Nature had been kind thus far, and she was able to pull off the look regardless.
She walked up beside her partner, threaded her hand into the crook of his arm, and peered up into his twinkling hazel eyes. Caught off guard by the extensive work done to age his early thirties features, not to mention the moustache and long goatee he’d been outfitted with, she did a poor job of stifling a laugh.
Alex Brennan’s brow crinkled as he ran a hand through his impeccably styled, professionally dyed gray tresses. “What?”
“I suddenly have a craving for fried chicken.”
“Don’t make me put you over my knee, young lady,” he spouted, waggling his finger in her face.
“Yes, Daddy,” she purred, stroking his bicep.
His eyes widened and a knowing smile curled his lips. “So, you have a thing for older men. That explains the rejection.”
Shaking her head fervently, she looked up at him with overly innocent doe eyes. “I believe that incest is my reasoning at the moment.”
He shook his head. “Kids today…”
They walked up to the massive wooden parlor doors of the Seagrave mansion and stopped.
Smiling down at her, Alex squeezed her hand. “Are you ready, my darling daughter?”
With one last tug at the base of her wig, she morphed into a spoiled, blonde socialite as her father shoved open the heavy, ornate doors. Nose tilted as high as she could while still seeing where she walked, Nia rolled her eyes in a bored gesture while Alex led her into the crowded ballroom.
Nia absorbed her incredible surr
oundings while she remained firmly in character. Lips tightly puckered in a scowl, eyes mere slits, she silently screamed “pissed rich girl,” while inside she gawked like a seasonal tourist. The tall, three story walls were adorned by elaborately etched windows spanning the entire length, which made the cavernous room seem larger still. Monstrous crystal chandeliers that would fill her entire bedroom hung from the ceiling and cast sparkling prisms throughout the room. Large hand-carved wooden tables in each corner held buffets fit for a king. A four-piece string ensemble played classical music on a stage at one end of the hall while people mingled in front of them.
Shoving her tourist ego out of the way, Nia released Alex’s arm to make her character debut. “Hello?” Her loud, annoyed voice rang out over the soft music and hum of conversation; nearly every head turned toward her with shock and disgust loosening their jaws. She peered through the sea of faces, until she saw Alex in position, leaning against the wall near a guarded door, ready to go. He nodded ever so slightly in her direction.
The crowd was obviously not shocked or disgusted enough. They all quickly resumed chatting.
Alex’s voice whispered in her ear via her earwig. “Now, honey,” he cooed. “You don’t want to cause a scene, do you?” She glanced toward him. A slight smile curled one corner of his mouth as he tossed her a wink.
“Damn right I do,” she whispered to him. Nia stiffened her spine, thrust her balled up fists toward the ground and bellowed, “I need to speak with Chelsea Seagrave now!”
An older gentleman in a tuxedo regally marched toward her. “Ma’am, can I help you?” His nose jutted up once the words were spoken.
“You can serve Chelsea’s head to me on a platter! No one—and I do mean no one—leaves Jennifer Helms off of the guest list and lives to see the light of another day. Seriously, do you know who I am?” Nia crossed her arms over her chest in an overly exaggerated huff and glanced back toward the door, pretending to let him revel in her greatness.
The large guard still stood at his post.
It’s time to bring my A-game. She jabbed her finger into the penguin-clad man in front of her and raised her voice to a blaring shrillness that hurt even her own ears. “Do you understand what I’m saying, old man? Get.” Her finger poked his chest again. “Me.” She shoved him backward with both hands. “Chelsea Seagrave.” She walked directly in front of him, punctuating her statement by screaming, “Now!” From the corner of her eye she saw the guard come running toward them.
Nia positioned herself to keep the guard’s back to the door he’d just been protecting. She pretended to listen to the chastising babble coming from the men in front of her while she kept her face scrunched in a disgruntled scowl. In her peripheral vision she watched Alex. He jimmied the lock behind his back and slipped into the office. She sucked in a hasty breath as the door eased back open.
Damn it.
Nia attempted to keep the guard’s attention away from Alex’s mistake by accelerating the argument, grabbing his suit lapel. “Where is she? The little bitch has some explaining to do.” Unfortunately it had the reverse affect. He swatted her hands away and turned back toward the door. Nia rushed in front of him. Lacking the extra eighteen inches to impede his line of sight, he shoved her out of the way, rushing toward the office. She followed on his heels and grabbed his arm as he yanked the door open. With his free hand, he reached underneath the back of his suit coat, producing a 9mm Glock with a silencer.
She pulled the door closed behind her and flipped the lock. Time seemed to slow as Alex popped up from under the desk at the far wall, the red dot appeared on his forehead, and the thug next to her slid his finger onto the trigger. The guard held Nia at bay with his free arm. Leaning into his outstretched stronghold for leverage, she was able to kick the gun as the shot spat out. The red dot moved away from Alex’s head only to land on his shoulder. The gunman’s skewed aim was true, the bullet ripping through his flesh. Alex slumped to the ground with a groan, cursing a mean streak.
At least he’s still alive.
Nia grabbed the thug’s gun hand and spun him around before he gathered his bearings from the shot. Turning toward her, brilliant white fangs slid from the corners of his mouth, a red glaze tinged his rounded, evil eyes, and he released a low hiss.
Her stomach clenched into knots, Nia fought the urge to throw up on his expensive Italian loafers. The operation was supposed to be strictly time travel related. There’d been no warning of vampire involvement or any other paranormal aspect whatsoever. Swallowing back the bile, she used the extra hate induced adrenaline to fuel her fight.
He swung his free arm toward her in a punch; she ducked at the last second. At the same time, she swung a leg around to sweep him off his feet. He slammed to the ground face first. She fell on top of him, dropping an elbow into his back. With adrenaline coursing through her, she grabbed him by the hair and slammed his head against the tile floor. For good measure, she jabbed her fist into the back of his neck, imbedding her silver ring into his skin, rendering him unconscious. It had become second nature to accessorize in silver once she realized the paralyzing effect it had on the vampires. She glared at the seething, drooling monster at her feet. It took every last bit of control she had not to use his own gun to shoot him. While the act itself would have given her great pleasure, she realized it would do nothing more than piss him off further, as well as waste precious time.
“Damn bastard would just come back.” Spitting on him, she chided, “Goodnight, Brutus,” then ran toward Alex.
“Why do you always have to say that?” Alex’s voice was weak, but tinged with annoyance.
She dropped to her knees beside him, assessing the damage to his shoulder. “It’s my thing. Everyone has to have a thing.”
A pained smile brightened his pale face a bit. “You have two things staring right at me.” His good hand reached toward one of her breasts. Nia harshly smacked his fingers away.
Glaring at him, she asked, “Do you want me to leave you here?” Standing up, she ripped the bottom six inches off of her dress and tied the material around his shoulder to help slow the bleeding.
“You’re no fun.” Alex winced as she helped him stand up.
“Yeah, I know. We’ve had this conversation thousands of times. You like other women way too much for my taste.” Glancing around the desk, she noticed a folder marked “confidential.” “Is this the machine schematics and location info?”
“Yup, I just got them out of the safe when ‘Brutus-five-thousand’ barged in.”
“Good.” Nia’s heart pounded in her ears to the rhythm of the fists beating on the office door. She kicked into autopilot, grabbing the oversized leather desk chair. She spun toward Alex. “Cover your face.”
Tossing the chair through the window, glass shattered, raining over them. Nia turned, grabbed the folder, and helped him through the shards still clinging to the frame and into the bushes outside. With his good arm draped over her shoulder, they wound their way through the intricate garden, making sure to stay in the shadows. The air was quite warm for a southern winter night, and the full moon helped guide them through the maze.
Two guards wandered into the area. Nia dropped Alex behind a bush without warning, and he let out a groan. She straddled him, draped herself on top of his body, slapping a hand over his mouth. Peeking above the hedge, she watched the two men glance in her general direction with a bit of interest. They soon began discussing the hot piece of ass they’d been sizing up at the party. When they mentioned a low cut red dress and long blonde hair, Nia let out a quiet snort of disgust.
Alex, of course, giggled.
After the men left the garden, Nia yanked him from the ground a little too roughly as payback for his laughter, and they made their way to the surveillance van parked several blocks away.
Nia pounded on the rear of the vehicle. “It’s Brooks and Brennan.”
The doors swung open, and they were tugged into the van just as it sped away. Director Levinson ya
nked the doors closed and began barking orders.
“Medic, get over here. Tend to Brennan. Looks to be a bullet in his shoulder. Start triage while we’re in route to the Federal Medical Center.” The agent who’d been riding shotgun jumped to his feet and attempted to make his way to Alex in the speeding vehicle. The van screeched around a sharp corner and entered heavy traffic, setting off a symphony of blaring horns, making the ten-foot gap even harder for the agent to close.
Levinson continued bellowing, “Brooks.” He snapped his fingers and pointed at the seat next to him.
Nia fought the smart-assed urge to kneel at his feet and pant like a dog begging for leftovers in front of her boss. Instead she followed her agent training and complied. “We have the schematics and location.” She passed him the envelope with one hand while adjusting the bottom of her dress with the other. She’d almost forgotten that it had become a mini skirt with nothing underneath to protect any shred of dignity she might have left.
Flipping open the folder, Levinson smiled. “Great work you two. Well, other than Alex getting shot.” He glanced back and forth between his agents. “How’d it happen?”
Nia yanked the wig from her head and allowed her red curls to fall onto her shoulders. Looking down at the blonde pile of hair on her lap, she mindlessly braided strands while her stomach twisted itself into a similar pattern. “I didn’t keep the guard occupied. It’s my fault.”
“Don’t listen to…” Alex yelped in pain, focusing his aggression on the man trying to help him. “Damn it! I have no pain meds, and you’re turning me into your own personal pincushion. This is not working for me.” He swatted the agent away with his good hand, returning his attention back to his boss. “As I was saying, don’t listen to Brooks. I didn’t get the door shut behind me. It was my…”
Levinson cut him off. “You two are my best field agents. We got what we went in for, and you came out with your lives. Nothing more than acceptable collateral damage. I call it a win this evening.”
Nia stared at Alex lying on the floor of the van wincing in pain. She relived everything that happened and looked for any other outcome than this.
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